


will you just fucking eat something?

by Nori_Chan



Series: hurting henry hidgens [2]
Category: StarKid Productions RPF, The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anorexia, Depression, Eating Disorders, Guilt, Mentions of Suicide, Platonic Relationships, Pre-Canon, Self-Hatred, Some Fluff, Starvation, much more detailed this time, working boys are kind of mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 18:52:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18610441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nori_Chan/pseuds/Nori_Chan
Summary: Emma finds out that even if you get groceries for your professor, it doesn't mean he's actually going to eat any of it.





	will you just fucking eat something?

**Author's Note:**

> Bit of a continuation from my last piece. More angst, yay! A happy ending, though. Let me know what you think, and if you have any angsty requests, please shoot them at me!

“Hey, professor! What can I get ya?”

At seven in the morning, Beanies was completely dead. Everyone on their way to work passed through the new Starbucks that had opened up down the street. There were the regulars who would pour into the locally-owned cafe throughout the day, but Henry was the only one who ever showed up literally right after the coffee shop opened. He liked the quiet stillness of the place before the others came; he wasn’t very fond of being in large crowds these days. Years of being a recluse could do that to you. If it was his choice, he wouldn’t step foot in the coffee shop at all, but Emma insisted that he at least come visit every once in a while. He was glad it was her face behind the counter, smile looking quite genuine for once. He knew how she felt about this job and the customers that came in; she only complained about it all the time.

“I have that paper you asked me to look over,” he said as he pulled a small stack of papers from his satchel before handing them over. Emma mumbled a quick thanks before scanning over the sheets that were covered in messy red ink, the professor’s handwriting almost impossible to make out had it not been for the fact that she had grown used to deciphering his runes by then. She frowned at the marks

“Wasn’t that great then, huh?”

He beamed at her in response. It was nice to see such a bright smile on his face. “No, it was fantastic! I just gave a few suggestions for spots that could use some tweaking.” There was a pause where they both waited for the other to say something, Henry fumbling with the strap of his satchel. The air was fraught with the strain of what went unsaid. He knew what she wanted, but he didn’t want to give in.

“I better get to class. Those students won’t teach themselves.”

He didn’t move from his spot, though; Emma’s haughty gaze kept him rooted. For as small as she was, she could be pretty intimidating at times. She raised an eyebrow slowly in a sort of “are we really going to do this?” way. He sighed and pulled out his wallet.

“Black tea with five sugars and cream.” He winced as he said it, but when she grinned up at him, it almost made the pain worth it.

“You’ll also have a ham and cheese croissant,” she stated matter-of-factly while ringing him up. He frowned down at her, but she waved a finger at him to keep him from protesting. “Don’t make that face at me. I know it’s your favorite, and I baked one fresh for you this morning because we both know you haven’t eaten yet today.”

Or for the last week and a half, Henry thought with pursed lips, trying not to let that bit of info slip through. Sometimes he would forget to eat, but most of the time it was a conscious decision not to. He only really ate anything when she forced him to, but due to their busy schedules, that wasn’t that often. At least, not as often as the feisty barista would like. “You really didn’t have to do that…”

“Nonsense,” she shot back, preparing his order. “My favorite teach deserves only the best that money can buy.”

His grin returned with his usual playful mood. “Is that right? You better take me down to Starbucks, then.”

They both laughed, and for a moment, the world seemed well. The moment collapsed when a dizzy spell came over him and he reached a hand to the counter to steady himself. Emma glanced over, concern evident on her face.

“Sir, you feeling okay?”

The spell passed and he waved her off. “Fine, fine. Just tired. Was up late last night grading papers.” It wasn’t a complete lie, and it was thankfully enough to calm Emma down for the time being. With a worried smile, she handed him his drink and bag, and as he took it, he slyly slipped a twenty dollar bill into her hand. She gaped down at it, then up at him, then back down at the bill. He had already turned to walk towards the door so she wouldn’t get the chance to try and give it back.

“S-sir, I can’t take this…”

“Nonsense. Consider it repayment for those groceries.” He threw a smile over his shoulder at her which she hesitatingly returned. Just as he was about to go out the door, she called out to him.

“Don’t forget! We’re meeting in your office at noon!”

He nodded in affirmation, and as the door began to swing behind him, he could make out a new voice coming from behind the counter.

“So is he, like, your sugar daddy or something?”

“Oh my god, Zoey, you are so gross.”

He laughed about that exchange on his bike ride all the way to the Hatchetfield Community College campus. He wasn’t keen to admit it aloud, but he did care deeper for Emma Perkins more so than he would any other student. He thought of her like a daughter or niece that he would never have; or, at the very least, a friend. It was sad to think that out of this entire town, Emma was the only person he considered a companion. As he walked up the stairs to his office, he wondered if Emma thought of him in the same way. She cared enough to check in on him all the time even though she had no other reason to; she wasn’t in any of his classes at the moment. And she cared enough to buy him groceries and make sure that he ate something every once in a while. She even came to his house sometimes when they didn’t see each other on campus to make sure he hadn’t withered away into nothing.

Maybe she just feels guilty.

He stopped in his tracks when another spell accompanied the ominous thought. He gripped a nearby trash can for support, knees buckling and brow sweating. He dropped the Beanies paper bag, using his hand instead to press against his stomach as pain overtook him. He didn’t like to admit it, but he really needed to eat something. But starved as he was, he didn’t think he could stomach even one bite of anything. He hated being so weak.

I don’t deserve food, he thought as the pain slowly past and his vision returned to him. He didn’t deserve Emma, nice as she was, just as he hadn’t deserved them. The guilt crashed down in a tidal wave, and it took all of his energy to keep himself from crying. It had been his fault. The pain he was feeling was nothing compared to what they must have gone through because of him. He deserved the torture.

When he composed himself and made sure that no one else had been around to see that, he leaned down and picked the bag he had dropped off the floor. He studied it for a moment, eyebrows scrunched in consideration, before tossing it and his half-finished drink into the trash bin. He needed to get to class.

 

 

The morning flew by without much more trouble. Henry did his best to put on a facade for his students, and it seemed to work for the most part. A handful of kids seemed to notice the way his hand would move to his stomach as he tried to hide the grimace that would overcome his face or how shaky he moved and spoke. He reassured the worried ones that he was fine, it was nothing contagious, and that was good enough for them. Thank god he didn’t have Emma in class this semester; she would have seen right through them and would try to give him a lecture in the middle of his own.

He was resting his head on the desk of his cluttered office when a knock startled him out of the dreamlike trance he had been in. “Door’s open!” he called out, removing a paper that had gotten stuck on his cheek as he rested. He tried to tidy himself up a bit as the door swung open, but he was relieved to see that it was just Emma. He didn’t have to put on that elaborate of a show with her like he did with his other students.

“Emma? What a surprise!”

Emma rolled her eyes; god, his memory could be shitty sometimes. “It’s not really a surprise if we scheduled this meeting two weeks ago and I reminded you this morning.”

His broad smile faded. Was that what this was? Just a meeting? Of course, Emma was just his student. Not a friend who wanted to surprise him with a visit. He cleared his throat and straightened his back, trying not to look as hurt as he felt. She didn’t seem to notice as she plopped herself down in the chair across from him and fumbled to grab something out of her backpack.

“Did you like that croissant? I wasn’t kidding when I said I made it myself. I stayed late last night to make the dough; it’s my own recipe. So it probably wasn’t the greatest, but--”

She had finally found the folder she was looking for and had turned back to her professor only to see him doubled over with head tucked into his chest and his arms wrapped tight around his waist. She stood from her chair, suddenly panicked and looking like a fish out of water.

“Professor Hidgens! Are you okay?”

“‘M Fine, my dear, just--”

He didn’t have the chance to answer as the pain faded away. He heard a yell, a loud thump, and then everything faded to black.

 

 

When Henry finally came to, he found himself laying on the floor in pain. There was a dull ache in the back of his head, the wooden floor not being the most comfortable surface to lay on. He felt another hunger pang, and his hand moved lazily to massage his aching stomach. He was surprised when his fingers touched the cashmere of his turtleneck; his coat had been taken off. A slow look to his left, and he slowly opened his eyes to spot said coat thrown aside in a heap. He rolled his head to look up at the ceiling and was startled to see Emma’s face mere inches from his. She looked terrified.

“Oh thank god, you’re awake.”

“Was I… not awake?” That would make sense given the state of things. He tried to sit up, but the pain was too much. She had to help him into a sitting position, trying to be gentle with his delicate frame. He winced.

“You fainted, professor,” she stated like it was the most obvious thing. “You were out for a couple of minutes, and you hit your head pretty hard. I-I should probably call--”

She had started to stand up, but held onto her wrist in a vice grip despite the discomfort moving his arms made. “No ambulance,” he half-pleaded, half-sobbed. He hated hospitals. He would literally rather die than be confined to a bed with doctors looking over him constantly, being forced to eat…

“Okay,” she relented and squatted back down in front of him. She never usually gave up that easily; maybe it was the frantic look in his eyes that made her feel bad for him just enough for him to get his way. He let go of her arm and hissed as another pang racked his stomach. She moved to his side to rub his back in a way that she hoped was comforting. It was clear that she had no idea what to do and was trying to hold back her panic for his sake.

“You didn’t take anything, did you?”

The question came out of left field and hit him square in the gut. “Of course not,” he sputtered, horrified by the bluntness of her statement.

She wasn’t satisfied though. “No… pills, or bleach, or--”

“No.” He shouldn’t have been so upset, it was a perfectly logical inquiry given the situation and his history. He was upset, though, and couldn’t bear to look at her in the eye. God, she deserved a much better friend.

“Professor,” she started slowly, and his breath hitched because he knew what she was going to ask next. In fact, she didn’t even need to speak it; he already had the answer for her.

“It’s been about… ten days, I think.”

Henry had turned his head away at this point, but he could feel the anger in her stare. If she didn’t hate you before, she definitely does now, he thought with a frown.

“Why?”

He swallowed down the sob that was threatening to unleash. “Because I don’t deserve to.”

He was so sure that Emma was going to slap him, so he was surprised when he felt her arms around his neck.

She pulled him close to her, her grip tight as though she feared that he would slip away if her hug was too loose. He sat there staring blankly like an idiot until he heard her sniffle into his shoulder. His heart broke, and he slowly reached his arms up to wrap around her back. As her body shook, he could feel the tears welling up in his eyes.

“I’ve lost everyone else in my life,” she murmured into his shirt, voice so soft he could barely hear it. “I can’t afford to lose you, too. I just wish you valued yourself as much as I do.”

Henry didn’t reply, so they sat in silence for a moment while they gripped each other for dear life. When Emma eventually pulled away, her eyes were red and puffy. He had never seen her cry before, and the sight of her so upset made him regret every action he had taken leading up to the moment.

She moved her hands to squeeze his shoulders. “I won’t make you go to the doctor’s right now,” she started, and he looked away out of shame, “but I want you to get better.”

“I… I want to, too,” he replied with hesitation, but it wasn’t a lie. He really was getting sick of the lying and the torture he was putting himself through. He had made mistakes in the past, but he was tired of them eating him alive every day. He had just needed someone to make him realize just how tired he was.

“Will you promise me that you’ll at least try to do better?”

No hesitation this time. “I promise.”

She was very happy with this, smiling as she wiped the remaining tears from her eyes. She didn’t like being vulnerable, but if it meant helping someone she cared about, she didn’t really mind. She stood up and pulled out her phone, earning her a perplexed glance from her professor.

“I’m emailing my teachers to let them know I won’t be in class this afternoon.” Henry looked like he was about to say something, but Emma cut him off. “We’re going back to your place, ordering pizza, and watching a movie. Doctor’s orders.”

She helped him stand up, and he tried not to look so guilty. That sounded really fun, but he didn’t want her to miss class because of him. “You really don’t have to…”

“I know,” she said with a smile as she helped him with his coat and started to lead him towards the office door, “but that’s what friends are for.”

The professor looked shocked, this time in a good, hopeful way. “You really think we’re… friends?”

She turned to look at him like he was from another planet. “Henry Hidgens, I swear to god, I am going to literally strangle you if you’re actually that clueless.” With that endearing statement, the office door clicked shut.


End file.
